


A love letter from Neria Surana

by Logseman



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 06:07:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14805800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Logseman/pseuds/Logseman





	A love letter from Neria Surana

Dear Nightingale,

as we agreed once upon a time, I am sending you this nug as the signal that I will visit you shortly. Apparently you do not have the good sense to untangle yourself from politics after all you have been through, but then again something good has come out of that. As a Circle mage I did never get hold of the former Grand Enchanter (maybe my voting against the rebellion had a role on that) and one of the reasons why I am going there is so that I can speak to her and she can teach me her little trick. You do not need to fear about me getting recognised, apparently the best effort they could do was that garish face in the Redcliffe monument. I suppose even when nominally it's a statue of the Hero of Ferelden they could not resist the temptation to make it about their own. Arl Eamon and the bastard King's resemblance are incredible, but apparently everyone else who did the deed deserved to be disfigured.

I still don't know if I will make a short visit or if I will take you for good this time. I suppose the New Chantry people you're hanging out with will still want you in their employ and if you want to remain with them for the duration of whatever tasks you have I will not put up a fight, but I command you to not look for anything else to do. I grow old and tired and I do not intend to wait for much longer. I am also sure that you have amassed enough sovereigns to afford something comfortable: unlike me you were always good about gaining money and holding to it. Maybe your Antivan friend can find something sunny for us to take.

As you do know I'm not an authority on the topic since I used my magic on myself as a child, but I imagine you may have seen a grey hair or two in your head when you look at yourself in the mirror. Do not touch them if it is the case: I want to enjoy them as I hold your mane in my hands again. I want to hear you squirm and resist fruitlessly as my hands wander around that luscious body of yours. I am sure that now that you're not in the field (and I insist on my prohibition) you have gained some weight, and you will show me every little spot that has grown plump and rich so that I can devour it like a hungry dragon. 

I want to hear your lisp again, your voice claiming all the truths that I imprinted into you: that you are my servant, mine alone, and no other person, god or mighty cause will sway your loyalty, and that you shall reveal to me your hidden thoughts, your most intimate secrets, and put to my disposal every single thing that you learn and every single thing that you own. In return I will make you my captive, and while you are trapped every single inch of your skin will burn with my touch, eliciting the most lovely songs that your mouth can utter: moans and squeals and lovely little sounds of devotion to your Maker, she who destroyed the false gods, she who smote and made kings, she who defied the Veil, she who took your lying mouth from a condemned hamlet and remade you into her own bride.

Do take care of yourself, my love, and do not expect me.


End file.
